


the heart is a muscle

by fenying



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anniversary, Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life, jeon wonwoo gets emotional over socks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26107522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenying/pseuds/fenying
Summary: Soonyoung says that Wonwoo is well on his way to becoming a himbo. Wonwoo doesn't even know what that means.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi
Comments: 44
Kudos: 178





	the heart is a muscle

**Author's Note:**

> as always, much love to lily.

“Where are you going?” Soonyoung mumbles into the front of Wonwoo’s shirt, hands twisted into the hem.

Wonwoo gently pries his fingers off, tucking the blankets back around Soonyoung’s curled up form. “Gym. Seungcheol-hyung wanted to work out together.”

“In the morning?” Soonyoung scrunches his nose up, eyelids still heavy with sleep, and the sight makes something warm swell in Wonwoo’s chest. “How are you already more awake than me?”

“I’m under threat of death,” Wonwoo tells him. Soonyoung snorts.

“Liar. Seungcheol-hyung wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Soonyoung gives him as baleful a glare as he can manage with his eyes still squinted. It’s too cute to really work properly. “Me, on the other hand. He seems to have no problems stealing you from me.”

“I’ll only be gone for a few hours,” says Wonwoo, carding a hand through Soonyoung’s hair. “I’ll probably be back before you wake up again.”

Soonyoung grumbles, but he still leans into the touch. “A few hours today. Then another few hours tomorrow. Then the whole day at a PC bang the day after that. I should never have asked you out.”

“And why is that?” Wonwoo asks, amused.

“I didn’t know you were gonna turn out to be both a stinky gamer boy _and_ a gym rat,” says Soonyoung. “That’s two sins too many. When are you ever gonna spend time with your poor boyfriend?”

“I’ll bring back fried chicken for lunch from the place you like near the gym,” says Wonwoo, placating. “And if I work out I can carry you back to bed when you inevitably overeat and complain about not being able to move, hmm? Ever thought about that?”

“Oh, that sounds good, actually,” says Soonyoung, reaching up to pat Wonwoo’s bicep. “My himbo boyfriend. I think I can live with that.”

“Himbo?”

“Mhm,” Soonyoung hums happily. “Not quite there yet, but keep it up and you’ll be a full-fledged himbo soon.”

“What does that even mean?”

But Soonyoung is already drifting off to sleep again, a small smile on his face as he tugs the blankets up. “Good night, my future himbo Wonwoo. Come bring me fried chicken and let me squish your arms when you come back.”

Two seconds later, he’s out like a light, snoring softly. Wonwoo shakes his head, fond. He brushes the hair off of Soonyoung’s forehead to press a soft kiss there before letting himself out of the room quietly.

It’s only later, when they’re stacking the weights back on the rack that the thought pops up in Wonwoo’s head and squirms around like a little worm. In short, insistent and unrelenting—much like Soonyoung himself.

Might as well ask now while he has someone available. Out of all his friends, Seungcheol ranks decently low on the scale of ‘most to least likely to laugh at him for dumb things,’ so he figures it’s a fair shot. “Hyung, what’s a himbo?”

“Pure of heart, dumb of ass,” Seungcheol recites dutifully.

“What?”

“I’m quoting Jeonghan word for word,” says Seungcheol, shrugging. “He gave me the rundown when I first asked, so now I’m passing it on to you.” He sits criss-cross on the floor mats, patting the space next to him. “Come, sit.”

Wonwoo sits, albeit suspiciously. “What was the context behind you asking what a himbo was?”

“Junnie said I’d make a good bodyguard extra in one of those action movies because of my levels of himbo-ness, but then he refused to explain so I had to ask Jeonghan.” Seungcheol shudders. “Be grateful you’re getting this explanation from me.”

“I’m very grateful,” says Wonwoo, and he’s not even being sarcastic about it. Jeonghan knows all, but his information always comes with a price.

“What’s the context behind _you_ asking what a himbo is, anyways,” asks Seungcheol, turning Wonwoo’s question back on him. Oh, he should’ve seen that coming.

“Soonyoung said I was on my way to becoming one.”

“Huh. Interesting.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Nothing, nothing,” says Seungcheol, smiling disingenuously. At least, Wonwoo thinks it’s supposed to be disingenuous but Seungcheol himself is such a genuine person that it’s hard to be sure. “Anyways, I’ll just give you the basic explanation. The three main traits of a himbo are kind, buff, and stupid. You need all three, otherwise that’s not a himbo.”

“Examples?” asks Wonwoo, because he’s never been one to skimp out on doing his research.

“Thor,” says Seungcheol decisively. “And, uh, you ever watch the Emperor’s New Groove?” Wonwoo nods—Soonyoung loves that movie. “Kronk’s a himbo. And if you know Junnie’s friend Renjun’s friend Yukhei, he’s the perfect example of a real life himbo.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know Yukhei, but he nods again anyways. This is all very enlightening. “Which trait am I lacking, then?” he asks, to be thorough.

Seungcheol gives him a quick once-over. “Buff, I guess,” he says, “but you’re getting there. And maybe, like, the EQ? Although I think Soonyoung would have a better idea than I would.”

“Do I only have the stupid part down, then?”

“Not really,” says Seungcheol, frowning. “Actually, I don’t really get where Soonyoung got the idea from. You’re, like, the opposite of a himbo. You’re a nerdy twink who happens to have nice abs and just enough patience for the people in your inner circle.”

Wonwoo can’t even find it in himself to resent that, because it’s true. “What made Soonyoung think I’m a himbo in the making, then?”

“How would I know? He’s _your_ boyfriend.”

“He’s been blinded by his love for me, then.”

Seungcheol snorts. “Unlikely. Anyone would have to know what they were getting into if they decided to put up with your ass for that long. It’s been, what, three, four years now?”

“Something like that,” Wonwoo agrees absently. “I guess I’ll just have to ask him when I get home.”

Wonwoo’s standing in line for fried chicken, scrolling through his phone and ignoring the incessant texts coming in from Junhui, when he looks up and sees an electronic billboard for some idol’s birthday. It’s not the idol that’s important, though; rather, it’s the date—today’s date—that makes Wonwoo blanch.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Happy anniversary,” says Wonwoo, closing the door to their apartment behind him.

Soonyoung’s lying down on the couch, legs hooked over the armrest. He drops his phone on his stomach and props himself up on his elbows when Wonwoo comes in. “Ah, you’re back! Is that fried chicken I smell?”

Wonwoo holds the bag with the chicken up, his other hand weighed down by flowers and an alcohol cardboard carrier.

Soonyoung makes grabby hands. “Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

Wonwoo hands the chicken over, setting the alcohol on the coffee table and going to look for a vase for the flowers. “There’s beer for the chicken, and wine for later.”

Soonyoung hums happily, pulling one of the bottles out. “Oh, this is the wine that Myungho likes!”

“Oh, really?” says Wonwoo, as if he hadn’t frantically video-called Minghao asking for his expertise while staring down the wine aisle at the grocery store.

“Yeah,” says Soonyoung. “I didn’t know you knew about wine, Wonwoo-yah.”

“Lucky guess.”

Soonyoung seems to accept that, bald-faced lie as it is, and puts the bottle back in its slot. His eyes light up when Wonwoo sets the vase with the flowers down on the coffee table. “Ooh, sunflowers! Lots of good choices from you today.”

“Since it’s a special day?” Wonwoo tries.

Soonyoung laughs. “So was going to the gym an excuse for you to get all this, or did you forget and panic-buy everything on the way home?”

Wonwoo winces. “The latter.”

Soonyoung nods knowingly, patting the space next to him. “Come sit down.”

Wonwoo sits down, relaxing into the cushions at Soonyoung’s urging. Soonyoung rests his head in Wonwoo’s lap, looking up at him and poking him in the cheek. “If it makes you feel any better, I only realized when I woke up again, after you left.”

Wonwoo swallows, throat suddenly thick with something. “I didn’t even make a dinner reservation for anywhere.”

“Good thing you didn’t,” says Soonyoung, “because I already had plans for us.”

“Yeah?”

“I got Mingyu to send us a recipe and I went out and bought groceries earlier, so we’re staying in and cooking tonight,” says Soonyoung, and he looks so pleased with himself Wonwoo can’t help but smile too. “He promised it was very easy to make, but.”

“But it’s us,” says Wonwoo, and Soonyoung lets out a braying laugh that would be ugly coming out of anyone else’s mouth, but it’s Soonyoung, so it sounds like goddamn wind chimes or whatever. Wonwoo’s never been good at metaphors. “We’d be lucky not to burn down the kitchen.”

“Maybe we _will_ get lucky today,” Soonyoung declares. “Hey, do you think we’d be better at cooking if we’re already tipsy?”

“I think our chances of setting the kitchen on fire would be exponentially higher.”

“Spoilsport,” says Soonyoung with a snort. “So, gifts or movies first?”

“Movies?”

“That’s our agenda for today.” Soonyoung grins. “Just staying in and watching movies until it’s time to attempt dinner. Our first day off in forever, so you’re all mine for today.”

“I’m all yours, always,” says Wonwoo, poking Soonyoung’s cheek. Soonyoung fake-gags.

“Gross, when did you become such a casanova? That’s only himbo-adjacent, Wonwoo-yah.”

Wonwoo still doesn’t know what that means. “We can do gifts first,” he says, because it doesn’t really matter to him either way but he knows Soonyoung will fidget impatiently through all the movies if they don’t swap gifts beforehand.

Soonyoung lights up. “Okay!” he says, scrambling off the couch. He levels a warning glare at Wonwoo, pointing two fingers at his eyes. “Stay right here. I hid it in a top-secret place and I can’t have you finding out where it is.”

“I’ll wait,” says Wonwoo. He already knows where it is—apparently Soonyoung hasn’t figured out that the back of their closet isn’t the most secure of hiding places yet—but Wonwoo had restrained himself from sneaking a peek, so it’s still a surprise.

After Soonyoung comes back, Wonwoo goes to retrieve his present for Soonyoung from its hiding place. It’s nothing big, just a small trinket, really—neither of them are big on going all out for gift-giving, not when Soonyoung’s as prone to impulse-buying as he is and Wonwoo’s just picky—but Wonwoo still thinks he’ll like it. Wants him to like it. Needs him to, almost.

Soonyoung’s still hugging his gift protectively when Wonwoo comes back, curled up into a ball on the sofa. Wonwoo holds out the box to him. “You first.”

Soonyoung holds the little box up to his ear and shakes it, blinking owlishly when it makes a clinking noise. “You got me a gun,” he says decisively.

“Wh— _no_ ,” says Wonwoo. “What the fuck? How would that even fit in there?”

“I don’t know, maybe you packed it really well,” says Soonyoung. “Oh, but then it wouldn’t rattle. Earrings?” Wonwoo shakes his head. “Paperclips.” Wrong again. “Nuts and bolts.”

“You are terrible at this,” Wonwoo tells him, not unkindly. “Why would I get you nuts and bolts for our anniversary?”

“Home improvement,” says Soonyoung, pouting. “Maybe it’s time to finally swap out your rickety old desk.”

“Not on your life, Kwon Soonyoung,” says Wonwoo. “That desk is my baby.”

“ _I’m_ your baby,” Soonyoung fires back, “and I have no idea what you got me. Can I just open it?”

Last year, Soonyoung made Wonwoo keep guessing for two hours straight until, in a fit of desperation, Wonwoo had said _Pokémon cards_ and Soonyoung had said _that’s right, actually,_ and Wonwoo was forced to come to terms with the fact that it would probably be a bad move to strangle his boyfriend on their anniversary _._ It’s a little game they play—whoever guesses what the other person gave them the fastest wins, prize to be determined at a later time. Soonyoung is ruthless with it.

But Wonwoo is feeling merciful today, and also a little guilty, so he just nods.

Soonyoung unwraps the box, ripping at the paper, and gasps happily when he finally sees what it is. “Keychains!” he says, turning it around in his hands appreciatively. “That was totally gonna be my next guess.”

“Uh huh.”

“It was,” says Soonyoung, very convincingly. He looks at the assorted keychains on the ring one by one, marveling over each of them in turn, and Wonwoo’s actually quite proud of the ones he picked out. There’s a mini Shinee lightstick on there, and one of those key fobs that connect to your phone if you lose your keys. Wonwoo’s going to have to help Soonyoung set it up, but maybe it’ll save them from having to change their locks for the third time this year.

Soonyoung picks one out and holds it up, letting the rest dangle. “So you admit it,” he says smugly, showing it to Wonwoo.

It’s the tiger one. “You can like tigers without being a tiger,” says Wonwoo.

“You can like tigers and also be a tiger.”

“You’re not a tiger.”

“You say that, but you’re the one who bought me this,” says Soonyoung, smiling as if he’s torn between looking demonically gleeful and just plain happy. “Horanghae, Wonwoo-yah.”

“You’re incorrigible,” says Wonwoo, trying really hard to look annoyed, but judging from Soonyoung’s expression he’s not doing a very good job. “My turn.”

“Be my guest.” Soonyoung passes his gift over, watching as Wonwoo weighs it in his hand. Wonwoo shakes it lightly, listening to the soft thumping sound it makes.

This would be a lot harder if Wonwoo hadn’t mentioned specifically needing this item a few weeks ago and Soonyoung wasn’t so good at remembering small things like that, but fortunately (unfortunately for Soonyoung?) Wonwoo is just as aware of Soonyoung’s idiosyncrasies as Soonyoung is of his. “Socks.”

Soonyoung whistles. “Got it in one.”

At Soonyoung’s gesture, Wonwoo strips the box of its wrapping and pulls out the contents. He’s expecting normal white socks, but— “Oh,” says Wonwoo, pulling the socks apart to look at the designs printed on them. _Starry Night, Sunflowers, Café Terrace at Night._ Van Gogh. His chest is tight, suddenly. “These are too nice for me to wear to work.”

“Then don’t,” says Soonyoung. “Wear them in bed and then you can stop torturing me with the ice blocks you call feet.”

Wonwoo holds the socks in his hands, gently smoothing them out before stacking them up again. He puts them back in the box and sets it on the coffee table next to the flowers. Soonyoung’s satisfied smile softens into something that can only be described as fondness, and Wonwoo doesn’t even know what to do with his hands anymore.

“I— Why do you think I’m a himbo,” he rushes, choked up, “the last time I tried to carry you I _dropped_ you and I _forgot_ about our _anniversary_ and—”

Soonyoung moves to hold his hands, rubbing his thumbs over Wonwoo’s knuckles. Wonwoo swallows roughly and curls his fingers loosely around Soonyoung’s. Even after all these years, he still hasn’t gotten tired of marveling at the way their hands fit so well together, like puzzle pieces.

“You’re getting there,” Soonyoung tells him, “but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I like you just the way you are.”

“No himbo boyfriend?” asks Wonwoo.

Soonyoung shakes his head. “There’s no use in having a himbo boyfriend if it’s not a Wonwoo boyfriend too.”

Wonwoo clings onto his hands like an anchor, and there’s just something about touching Soonyoung, just being near him, that’s always so grounding. The world narrows down to just them, in this space, in this moment. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Nothing ever does,” says Soonyoung, and when he smiles his eyes curve into winking little crescents. “Happy anniversary, Wonwoo-yah.”

**Author's Note:**

> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/88byeol)


End file.
